Last of Kings
by BoomChick
Summary: In a kinder world, with kinder gods, maybe it would have been enough that he was willing. But he had seen the steel heart of Bahamut, the rage of Leviathan, the impatience of the Titan, the fires of Ifrit. This was not a world for kind gods. They had watched Luna die with indifference. And they would do the same to him. Still, he wished... A Fix-It oneshot in honor of Noctis's Bi


In a kinder world, with kinder gods, maybe it would have been enough that he was willing. But he had seen the steel heart of Bahamut, the rage of Leviathan, the impatience of the Titan, the fires of Ifrit. This was not a world for kind gods. They had watched Luna die with indifference. And they would do the same to him.

Still, he wished. Wished he'd had a little more time. He'd promised, all those years ago. Promised that things would go back to the way they were, long travels and quiet nights. Prompto complaining about camping, Gladio complaining about their dilly-dallying, and Ignis pointedly not complaining at all. Which, from Ignis, was a complaint in and of itself.

His memories of them etched a smile into his weary face. He felt it pull at the corners of his mouth with an unfamiliar tug. His memories were all old friends now. He'd lived through them all, day after day, within the crystal's light.

Those memories were more familiar than the three men he'd met at Hammerhead. Who looked at him like a dream, like a nightmare. He wanted to know those weary men too. He wanted to know who his friends had become.

But his time with them was passed. Now there was only the throne, and Ardyn, and air choked with dust and demons.

He ascended. Each step the ring weighed at him, dragged him closer to crumbling. These steps his father had climbed. The weapons within his Armiger tingled in his awareness. The might of his ancestors, who bore the weight of the crown before him. He understood now, at least a little. Their might was necessary to carry such a weight.

He wondered quietly what his royal arm would have been, even as his father's blade dripped demonic ichor onto the once-gleaming floors. He'd never have time to choose now. But he knew it would have been a sword too. Lighter than his father's. He wished he had one he could pick.

They could call it 'Blade of the Last' or something. Ignis would have come up with a good title.

He felt so far away from his body already. LIke he was already dead and just waiting for his body to follow.

He blinked, watching a purple spark lift through the air before him. It was followed by a second, then a third. He frowned, reaching within himself. But no, he had not called on any gods. One had just arrived anyway.

He felt it first in the grounding chill. The cold racing through him. It grounded him instantly. He wrapped his arms around himself, even as he revelled in the sudden chill. Everything in this new world was so unbearably hot…

"Shiva?" He whispered in confusion, looking behind himself, paused on the stairs.

Behind him, Ardyn had frozen in place. His smile still on his face. Unblinking, unmoving. Not cold, like Noctis was. Just locked in time. He'd seen Gentiana do it once before, when she spoke into his ear of Ramuh's willingness. Now the snow-skinned god stood below him. Or floated, to be specific.

"He's not going to stop me." Noctis said. He barely recognized his voice. "You don't have to fight him."

"Are you so eager, King of Light?" She asked.

"I have to do this." Noctis almost looked away from her, turned back to the throne, kept walking. He should have. He didn't.

"You came straight here," She said, her voice unreadable as ever. "I thought you would take more time."

"The world is dying. I've already taken too long."

"Your friends have lived in the darkness for years." She drifted closer, her head tilted to the side, her pale eyes cutting as cold as the frost. Noctis could see his breath as she came closer. "They would gladly live years more if it were with you beside them."

"They deserve better." Noctis hissed through his teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. "They deserve safety."

"And you don't?"

"Many gave their lives for the king," Noctis murmured.

"Yes," said Shiva, drifting painfully nearer. "And was it worth lady Lunafreya's death, having Leviathan bound to you?"

It would have been less painful if she had just skewered him. He wondered at that pain, turning it over and over inside himself, inspecting it and holding it closer. It felt worthy. It felt like being alive.

He wished he could have had more time with her…

His eyes flicked back behind Gentiana. Ardyn was still unmoving, but the slow seep of blackness was bubbling up from his mouth. From his eyes. Whatever spell Gentiana had cast, it was holding only part of him. The rest of him would not be held for long. Not by man or god.

"I don't have time," He whispered, lifting his pleading gaze to Shiva, even as he felt frost gathering on his brow and in his hair. "It's got to end here and now. He'll kill everything."

"Lunafreya was right about you." Shiva sighed, scattering into a hundred of the smaller sprites that looked just like her.

"You really are as stubborn as Bahamut." Gentiana said, suddenly before him, between him and the throne.

"Gentiana," Noctis plead. "Please."

"King of Light," Gentiana said, turning to him. Her eyes were closed, her face human, soft and grim at once. "Why do you distrust me?"

"Sometimes there isn't an easy answer." Noctis said softly. "Sometimes you have to give it all to ensure a better tomorrow. Like my dad did."

His voice broke. Such a raw wound, after so much time.

"And sometimes," Gentiana was saying, even as Noctis glanced behind himself at the writhing darkness fighting against the snow god's spell. "A goddess is trying to tell you that you are a fool."

Noctis jerked back around to face her. Found that same pleasant smile in place, and none of the frustration he'd thought he'd heard in her voice.

"The old king died for a brighter tomorrow," She said. "And the world grew darker, little king. You would die on faith before the word of the Unbending, when before you stands a goddess telling you to live."

"Gentiana… Shiva, I-"

"Most beloved king," She stepped forward. Caught his hand. Her skin was freezing. Frozen. The ring burned under her touch. Noctis couldn't help the scream that pulled from him.

"Many kings before you have died," She continued, as if he wasn't crumbling to his knees in agony. "And no kings will die after. There will be no crystal and no ring. For all who remain, it will be as though all the magic in the world ceased to exist. From gods to demons."

For a moment, the world was empty. White and cold and alone. Just the snow everywhere, all around him, and the Glacian before.

And then before him he could see his friends, outside. Prompto, anxiety ridden. His eyes red with tears and that miserable tremble in his lower lip. Ignis had his arms crossed, his face turned away from the castle, but no less attentive for not looking with his blind eyes. One foot was tapping, his dagger still held tight in one hand. Gladio was murderous, bearing all the rage of Ifrit within the stillness of Bahamut.

"Once, before the fall, I remember we were like you." Said Shiva softly from before him. When he turned to look at her, her features were curved into a smile as warm as she was frozen.

"Do not waste this gift, last king of Lucius."

"I can't kill him without sacrificing my life." Noctis whispered. "Shiva, he has to die."

"No, for he is a thing of monsters. Death is no longer within him."

"So what," Noctis felt that desperation welling within himself. His hand was frozen under the ring, burning in agony under Shiva's touch. "I let him live?"

"Only in so much as I live." She said mildly. "Will you do as I ask, King of Light?"

He looked at his friends. Watched Prompto press against the crystal's barrier till Gladio hauled him back, bloody-nosed and closer than ever to breaking.

"Yes." He said softly.

It was selfish. Risking what remained of Lucius for one more day. But then, Noctis thought, there would always be more time to die.

"Then touch the scourge," said Shiva. "And open your magic to me."

When the white space vanished, so did Shiva. But the roiling darkness that was Ardyn stayed in place. Noctis approached, limping, his back to the throne. If he failed, if Shiva had been wrong, it could be the end of everything. But he moved forward anyway. He was no Bahamut, unyielding steel. He reached out his hand and touched the scourge. The same scourge Luna had fought so hard to heal.

If given the choice, he would much rather be Shiva, the gentle.

He opened his magic, feeling the ring burn on his frozen hand, the darkness pressing against his palm, devouring and corrupting all it touched.

And then the lightning struck down on the two of them, and something reached straight through Noctis and into the darkness that Ardyn had become.

"You wish to be a god," A furious old voice roared, cracked and aging and ancient. "Then so be it, Seventh!"

There was a tremendous pull. A tearing and a ripping. Noctis's scream was lost in the howl of wind and snow. The tremendous thunder. The rending scream of an almost-man and the combined efforts of two gods. Then three, then four.

The ring was a pinpoint of pain on Noctis's hand, and he channeled it for them. Focused it in, refused to relinquish his grip on the darkness, even as it channeled into his hand, down his arm, into his heart and chest. He felt it crackling through his skin with the ring's corruption, breaking him apart from the inside. And he heard Ardyn laughing. Not pleased, not amused, but a desperate, hopeless laugh.

Then the ring shattered.

For a moment it was suspended all around him. The pieces of the ring, the darkness, the storm. He turned, looking at the shadows of weapons that surrounded him. Memory and strength lent from long ago. The world burned with light.

And for a moment, he thought he saw his father. And for a moment, he thought Luna was there. There was no mistaking when it was Ardyn standing before him, his face grim and angry despite the smile.

"I will come for you in time," Ardyn said softly. "I will have power over all things in my new realm."

"Dominion," came the chiming voice of bahamut. "Is not equivalent to control. Seal the contract, last of kings. If this is the path you choose."

Noctis met Ardyn's eyes. He felt Gentiana behind him, whispering in his ear.

"I name you seventh of the six," He said softly. "Ardyn, of life, cast down to death."

"And will you summon me, oh king?" Ardyn asked, snide and taunting.

"With this," Noctis said softly. "The crystal shatters, and magic is at an end. The days of gods and kings…"

The moment shattered. The world fell apart. The broken ring fell to the ground in pieces. All but the shards still embedded in Noctis's frozen hand. He crumbled to his knees, cradling his bloody, frost-bitten, demon-blackened hand to his chest.

"Those days are over."

He found he couldn't stand. So he stayed kneeling on the floor, by the filthy ground that had made up Ardyn's last stand. He felt hollow. Gouged out with nothing left to fill him. Had magic taken up that much space inside him? He didn't mind the hollowness. He felt lighter than he had in so so many years. Since before his father's death. And he knew he wouldn't be alone for long.

"Noctis!" Prompto screamed, nearby. Not chastised, but echoed by the othered. Ignis's "Noct!" and Gladio's "Damn it!" Which, really, was close enough.

Noctis didn't realize how close they were till he felt hands on him, catching at his shoulders, in his hair, on his back. He blinked out of the daze, catching a breath. They were so _warm._

"It's okay," He comforted, automatically, trying to uncurl, to let them know he was alright. "It's over. It's okay."

"Oh shit, dude, your hand," Prompto was saying, tears spilling over down his cheeks as he knelt before Noctis. His hands were fluttering, his face drawn and anxious, so pale that his freckles seemed brighter than ever. Just like the last day Noctis had seen him before falling away. All that long time ago.

"It's okay, Prom." Noctis murmured, even as Ignis moved forward, scowling crouching beside Prompto with uncanny accuracy.

"What's wrong with his hand?" He was asking, brisk and professional, his hand already falling to the bandoleer of curatives he kept close at hand.

"Where'd that son of a bitch run off to?" Gladio rumbled form close behind him, his hands on Noctis's shoulders, supporting him, guarding him. He sounded angry, but Noctis knew it was at himself. He'd had to leave his shield behind again.

"He's gone." He murmured, letting his eyes fall closed, assured that they were close by. "And we're still here. It can finally be like it was before again, Prompto. Just like you wanted."

He didn't object when Prompto launched himself against him, wrapping his arms so tight and strong around him that Noctis thought he'd suffocate. He didn't care about the pain in his dead hand, or the ringing in his ears, or Gladio's gruff half-meant 'watch it kid!'

He cared about Prompto and Gladio holding him. About Ignis shifting forward to join the touch. He felt his lips curl into that unusual smile and stay there. Felt something bubble inside him that had nothing to do with old kings and dead magic.

The last king of Lucius lay spent on the floor, exhausted and broken and powerless, and he laughed until he couldn't breathe, supported in the arms of his very best friends.


End file.
